


7/8 time signature

by mukeandziamgotmelike



Series: swan princes(ses) [7]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Gen, Rivalry, Shiratorizawa Week 2017, also concert band, but like passive aggressive, first chair fights, i guess lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 07:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mukeandziamgotmelike/pseuds/mukeandziamgotmelike
Summary: Reon had said that they just had different skill sets - Shirabu was better at blending in and Eita was better at standing out. Despite this, Eita knew how much Shirabu could grow, when given the chance.So why, why, why did it come as such a shock when he was?





	

**Author's Note:**

> LUWBVOWUBOUBW FUNNY STORY BEFORE I START AHAHAH
> 
> so - i had been planning on writing fics for this entire week (since i love my shiratori babes dearly), but sadly, i was only able to finish two days. i'm not even sure if i want to post the second one, it's pretty shit.
> 
> i feel awful about this, but i honestly couldn't find any inspiration. i haven't been able to write anything lately because of what's going on in my personal life. i really wish that i could get passed it and put out more content for you guys, because i love writing and getting so much great feedback from you all. however, a certain someone has been making me feel all hinata-like and i just can't focus on anything lately. 
> 
> that said, LET'S CHANGE THE MOOD AROUND
> 
> so i'm in the marching band at my school and i love it with all my heart. i thought, 'hey, angsty flute playing semishira?' one day and i knew that it had to be done. i am a flute player myself, which is why this fic was so important and dear to my heart.
> 
> OKAY SO THE TITLE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS FIC BUT HEY 7/8 IS A TOUGH ASS THING AND I LOVE IT
> 
> ENJOY I LOVE YOU ALL

Eita remembers how in his third year of middle school, his band director had said he was one of the best players they had. Granted, there weren’t many players in the band to start with - about 20 or so when he graduated, but he did have a small following of about 4 younger flutes players that he led. 

When he went to high school - at  _ Shiratorizawa Academy,  _ on an arts scholarship - things had been good. He had been fourth chair with two thirds year flutes and and one second year. There had been other first years that stood out, too - Tendou Satori, a quirky bassoonist; Yamagata Hayato, a percussionist; Oohira Reon, a euphonium player who was too kind for his own good; Soekawa Jin, a quiet clarinet player; and Ushijima Wakatoshi, oboe player and proud graduate of Shiratorizawa Academy Junior High who had heaps of talent but couldn’t follow social cues to save his life. 

This had all been well and good, excluding that one time during band camp where Tendou had accidentally sprayed sunscreen in his eyes or when he and Yamagata had gotten caught skipping math class in one of the practice rooms -  _ those  _ had been treats - for about a year, until the new first years came to Shiratorizawa.

Eita had been anticipating getting first chair sometime during his second year. The flutist that would have been a third year now had decided to focus more on her studies and had dropped their symphonic band as a class, instead vouching for some college prep course that would help her with test taking. Which, by default, left Eita as the first chair flute player. There were other flutists in his grade, but none of them were particularly impressive. Even though he hated to sound pompous, he was the best flute that they had.

His glory was short lived, however, because new-first-year-pretty-boy-perfect-angel Shirabu Kenjirou came waltzing in with his flawless tone and stupidly respectful words and his absurd ability to deal with Tendou and Yamagata’s coddling… The kid was intelligent, that was easy to see. He seemed to have all twelve of his major scales memorized along with the majority of his chromatic ones. 

Despite all of this, he wasn’t…  _ obvious,  _ about his talents. Sure, he had them, but Shirabu seemed to have been built to play in an ensemble or, at the very least, a duet. Specifically, a duet with an oboe. Oboe, meaning Ushijima.

Shirabu had apparently been fine tuning his skills of intonation since he had seen Ushijima play at a competition that Shiratorizawa had participated in last year. He had worked long hours until he could consistently be perfectly in tune with whatever Ushijima tried to throw at him. Eita had heard this from Satori, who had gotten it out of their other first year, an apathetic trombone player named Kawanishi Taichi.

Gradually, Eita had noticed that he would get less duets with Ushijima, and that they would all go to Shirabu. As much as Eita  _ wanted  _ to be proud of the kid and his talents, he just  _ couldn’t  _ be. It was a literal honor to be able to play with Ushijima, why did he have to give that up? 

Reon had tried to comfort him; assure him that Shirabu wasn’t going to take his place or become better than him. Reon had said that they just had different skill sets - Shirabu was better at blending in and Eita was better at standing out. Despite this, Eita knew how much Shirabu could grow, when given the chance.

So why, why,  _ why  _ did it come as such a shock when he was?

\---

“Eita-kun, you’re going to be fine,” Satori says - probably gently, but Eita doesn’t care - as Eita paces back and forth angrily. “How could I just  _ lose  _ first chair, Satori?! The kid isn’t even that good, especially when it comes to playing out,” Eita huffs, running a hand through his hair. “I know that you’re mad, and I feel for you, but you gotta admit, he is kinda good…” Satori says, muttering the last part. Eita turns to him with a glare.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’m just trying to keep you down to earth! You  _ are  _ good, Eita, that’s a fact! You wouldn’t have gotten a scholarship if you weren’t. But even you have to admit, you’ve never been the best at balancing your sound with Wakatoshi’s. Kenjirou is better than you in that sense, and that’s something you just have to learn to deal with.”

Eita sighs, his shoulders relaxing and his fists unclenching. “Patronize me a little, Satori,” he whispers. Satori smiles. “That’s not what I’m here for, though. Someone’s gotta keep your pretty head on straight.”

Eita sits down next to Satori, leaning his head on the redhead’s shoulder. “Can I brood a little longer, at least?” Satori smiles. “Brood as long as you want, Eita-kun. Just don’t keep me awake with your grumbling.” 

\--- 

After a long, tedious, borderline creepy decision making process, Eita has come to a conclusion: Shirabu is good. Really good.  _ Insanely  _ good. Hearing Shirabu play, as he sits right next to Eita, makes for a better ability to listen to how he doesn’t ever flub a note, or mess up his attack on that high A in their competition piece. 

It would be endearing, if he wasn’t so obnoxious.

The thing is, Shirabu is  _ polite.  _ Too polite; it was weird. Eita felt almost personally attacked by it, for some reason. Anytime he would remind Shirabu about, say, a key change, all Shirabu would say was “right. Thank you, Semi-san.”

The  _ nerve. _

In addition to silently judging Shirabu like a popular 10-year-old girl, Eita has been working on his own playing. He would stay late after rehearsals to work on their music for competitions as well as some of his own - most days it would be around nine o’clock before Hayato came to start disrupting him by banging on random things, or Reon would gently coax him to come to dinner, or Satori would literally throw him over his shoulder and carry him back to their room and force-feed him cereal.

He’s getting better, but Eita knows that it’s not enough. He still can’t balance his sound with Wakatoshi’s in the same way that Shirabu does - he plays  _ too  _ loud, but he can’t help it; the need to make himself heard is still engrained into his brain from his grade school - and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to. Not like Shirabu has taught himself to; not without Washijou giving him a sharp side glance. 

But that doesn’t mean Eita is any closer to giving up. Oh no, he’s not going to settle with being  _ average.  _ ‘Settling’ wasn’t a part of his vocabulary. 

He was going to convince Washijou that he could play, too; play on his own.

And play  _ way  _ better than Shirabu could.

\---

It takes practice; long and hard, every night, even on their days off. Eita thinks he might get tired of it eventually, but when he thinks of just quitting, just letting go of how far he’s gotten, it pushes him to work harder. 

The beginning of his third year brings a new crop of first years - all of them are good, that’s for damn sure, but none of them stand out as much as Goshiki Tsutomu. Goshiki looked at Wakatoshi with bright eyes since the second he walked into that band room, despite playing in a completely different family of instruments. Goshiki is a trumpet player, but he clearly looks up to Wakatoshi’s legendary reputation along with him being a drum major as well as a section leader.

At the beginning of the year, they had their marching season, in which they would play at the American football games their school hosted in a half time show. Eita thought their football team was pretty good, but then again, Eita didn’t really know enough about American sports to judge. Washijou would make them memorize their music within the first three weeks of seeing it for the first time. Then, it was endless repetition of their drill until they got it completely down. 

It’s probably the third football game they’re playing at when Shirabu decides to actually have a human face-to-face conversation with him.

“Semi-san, do you hate me?”

To be honest,  _ not  _ what Eita was expecting. And how was he supposed to answer, anyway? Sure, Shirabu was definitely far from being his most favorite person in the world, but he couldn’t just tell the kid that he hated him to his face. It’s… rude.

“Sort of,” he decides to say. Shirabu nods, looking down at his flute in his lap. The tips of his fingers are red from the cold air, and Eita is sure that his own hands will match. 

“I mean, it’s not your personality, per se,” Eita continues, “it’s because -”

“I’m not going to say that I’m sorry, if that’s what you’re looking for,” Shirabu interrupts. Eita shakes his head slightly. “I wasn’t -” “Because I’m not. You’re very good, Semi-san, and I respect that, but everyone knows that I’m a better balance for Ushijima-san’s playing style.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, quietly: “With all due respect, of course.”

Eita finds himself laughing before he can stop it. “God, you’re gonna get punched one day, kid.”

He can see the small smile that crosses Shirabu’s face out of the corner of his eye, and finds himself scooting a little closer to his kouhai. 

There’s a drumstick thrown at his face, and then Hayato shouts, “oh, sorry, Eita, I dropped my sticks! Would you mind throwing ‘em back to me?”

Eita nods, picking the drumsticks up and throwing them back to Hayato. “Yeah, man, no problem. I know how it is.”   
“Yeah, y’know, I’m such a butterfingers. Awful sorry, honest.”

“I’m sure.”

\---

They make it through marching season without a hitch, and then it’s back on to competition music. Their first competitions usually take place sometime in February, but Washijou likes to start them at the beginning of November in order to get them perfect. Shiratorizawa couldn’t just  _ lose;  _ that wouldn’t look good at all.

There’s a piece they’re playing that is full of difficult parts. Eita is almost positive that Kawanishi will pass out from sleepiness sometime during the middle of the song, and then they’ll have to drag him off the stage. Satori will say “he was good while he lasted” while Reon frets and pats Kawanishi’s head with a damp cloth, holding his fellow low brass-man’s hand and muttering prayers under his breath. 

There’s a few parts that solely feature the flute section, many oboe solos (as usual), an oboe and flute duet, a duet between the oboe and bassoon (Eita wonders how much Satori had to beg to get that one going) and, finally, a flute solo. 

It’s after about two weeks into their practicing that Eita gets called into Washijou’s office. Eita’s immediately nervous, especially with Satori whispering the worst of possibilities to him and Wakatoshi’s extremely blunt judgments of whether they are actually plausible. 

Hayato’s call of “dead man walking!” doesn’t do much for his confidence, either.

“You wanted to see me, Washijou-san?” Eita asks tentatively after he knocks on the door. Washijou nods. “Yes. As you know, the piece we’re performing has a solo in it, and I think it would be better if you took it this time around.” Eita squawks a weird-sounding “what?!” out before clearing his throat. “Are you sure Washijou-san? Shirabu could -”

“Do you want it or not?”

There’s a hint of a smile playing at the corner of Washijou’s mouth, so Eita nods vigorously. “No, yes, of course! I - yes, I-I would like that,” he says. He turns to walk out, feeling like he’s bubbling with nervous happiness, when Washijou calls one last thing out to him. 

“I heard you practicing it. You’ve gotten much better.”

Eita isn’t able to stop the smile that crosses his face as he nods. “Thank you, Washijou-san.” He feels like Tsutomu. Is this what Tsutomu feels like all the time?

He walks back into the band room, and sees Satori clutching a tissue in one hand. “When will my husband return from war?” He wails. “I can’t even be mad. Satori, he  _ gave me the solo!”  _ Eita says happily, squishing Satori’s cheeks between his hands. “Wonderful, Eita-kun,” Satori says, his eyes full of calculating confusion because  _ who is this and what has he done with the real Semi Eita. _

“Congrats, Eita,” Reon says kindly. Eita smiles at him. “This calls for a celebration! We’re bringing Wakatoshi and going out to eat after this. We’ll tell them it’s Eita’s birthday - he’ll get free cake,” Hayato says. 

“You know what they say, Eita. When in Rome, the early bird gets killed with one stone,” Satori says. Eita just nods, taking his flute out of his locker eagerly.

Fucking  _ finally.  _

 

**Author's Note:**

> ksdbvoasbousa also i'm still working on the 1st year captains' fic, i swear to god i will finish it, i think it's close to being done but IDK
> 
> hope you liked this!


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